The New Normal

Everything was prettier with radiation. Out the window the sun was rising, just creeping lazily up above the hobbled stumps of the buildings that still remained. As the big bright ball went higher, the colours came out. The nuclear material still in the air, tiny radioactive particles of the world as it was before, caught the light differently and gave sunrises a darker warmer hue. The sky was shot with reds, oranges and pretty pinks. Pink was always her favorite colour. If the bombs had made the world pink, then they couldn’t have been that bad.

Autumn smiled at the growing day, running a brush through her hair. The warm shades of a thermonuclear morning were stirring together in a pretty little cascade above the ruins, lifting her spirits just as much as they’d thrown slagged atomic debris into the air before she was born. Supposedly these were autumn colors, but that didn’t mean they were hers. She’d been named for a season, when seasons were a thing. Before the bombs, just a few months of the year were autumn. Now, thanks to those wonderful shiny little particles, every day was an Autumn day.

She lay her brush aside, swept the few wrinkles out of her dress listening to the crinkle of the lead foil stitched into it, then pulled her hair back into a pony tail. Her dad still thought she looked better with pigtails, but she didn’t like them anymore. She would be a teenager soon, that was too little kiddie. The last thing to add was her locket. Heart shaped and shiny, she lifted the chain up and dropped it around her neck. Her head jerked for a second with the weight, but she regained her posture and her style. Perfect. Looking at her reflection (avoiding the cracks in the mirror of course) she pursed her lips in concern at a blemish on her face. After a second’s scrutiny her smile returned. Nope, just a zit, not a lesion. It would be a good day.

She rushed down the stairs, her feet stampeding down the creaky flight and swept into the kitchen. Mom was fussing with some new concoction from preserves, her apron stained with a smorgasbord of ickiness. Autumn wrinkled her nose as she peaked up on her toes to give her a kiss. It didn’t smell like pickle stew, so she might need to worry later.

Dad was at work, but in the living room, legs crossed, nose deep in a paper, Grandpa was getting lost in the news. She loved him fine, it’s just that he was so old. He was always talking about the way it used to be and ‘how rough young people had it now’. Her Dad sometimes grumpily called him a ‘boomer’ behind his back. Whatever that meant.

“Hi Grandpa!”

The brown newsprint drooped to reveal his bespectacled face. The edges of his grey moustache turned up at the sight of her giving him a joyful walrus type look. When his eyes beheld the heart locket around her neck though, the walrus swapped instantly to a drooping unhappiness.

“I… I take it you’re working today?”

“Yup. Just have to make a delivery.”

The boomer’s eyes narrowed (Were they called boomers because they came from before the world went ‘boom’?) and with groaning springs, eased up from his chair to call to Mom in the kitchen.

“She shouldn’t be doing that.”

Behind his stooped back Autumn rolled her eyes. Here we go again.

“Oh come on Dad,” Her mother called from the stove. It was good to see she used the same patient tone with him and this dumb old argument that she got when she did something wrong. “Don’t bring that up again. She’s good at her job. I don’t mind her making a little money to spend.”

The drooping walrus fell off a cliff.

“My God Carol, Its not about her earning money…”

His voice creaked to a stop, cut off by Mom’s stern look. That look was fierce, Autumn hated being on the receiving end of it. Without another word, he eased back into the groaning chair.

“Be back soon!” Autumn chirped, her good mood back in place.

She leaned over to kiss his cheek as well. He flinched at the touch of her lips.

On the street the world was starting to come alive. People shuffled down the avenue, some dressed normally, some under layers of rubber and foil. You could tell the older ones, the atom-phobes, by the silly gear they always wore. Big suits and masks with hoses coming down, making them look like clunky robot elephants. Some boomers were so sensitive about that kinda thing. Autumn dodged around them lightning fast, skipping her way down the broken cobblestones and humming her favorite song. She’d heard an old track called ‘Radioactive’ a long time ago, and it seemed to fit her just right. Something about ‘waking up to ash and dust’ really resonated with her. Then later, ‘all systems go, the sun hasn’t died’. Exactly! The world was still here, people who had a problem needed to just get over it. The tune was pretty catchy too.

Ahead, a flock of pigeons were scuffling about nipping for crumbs someone had dropped in the street. Instantly Autumn took off at a gallop, running through the mass shrieking and waving her arms. She was rewarded by the awkward flight, limp and wobble of the birds struggling to get out of the way. One sluggish fowl gave her a rotten look, the expression twinned on both of its heads. She giggled at the sight.

After a few blocks, the familiar pop of gunfire started up. Without care, Autumn kept skipping on untroubled. At this point she knew her firepower. This was miles away, one of the many gangs flexing their muscle this early. Light-hearted, she grabbed an old beaten down lamp post and swung her weight around it, heading up a new street. Tied high on the post, just short of where it had been severed, was a tattered red cloth. Further she went, skipping away, passing more red rags tied in prominent view so no one forgot who the neighborhood belonged to. Soon she came to one more shattered building. On the fence, a ragged red rag flapped in the breeze matching the one tied around the arm of the enormous man standing guard. The gorilla slowly followed her with his eyes, one of them blanched white with a scar, as she drew closer.

Autumn hopped up and smiled at his stern features. Without a word, he opened the fence and stood aside.

The girl’s smile broadened and she dashed up the steps, her ponytail bobbing behind her.

She found him at a workbench, mending a worn baseball bat. Her boss went by the name of Paulus, but she was pretty sure that wasn’t his real name. Boy, did he like to show off though. He never wore a shirt with sleeves so he could flaunt the scars down his arms. For a fat man he wore a lot of jewellery, these big chains around his neck that dangled down in gold and silver. His neck was what made him interesting because she wasn’t sure he had one. His shiny bald head just connected to his body, with his big chest and stomach. Sometimes she would stare trying to figure out where his chin was in the mess. It was so weird that people were afraid of him.

“Morning Mr. P!”

The doughy head lifted up, his piggy type nose scrunching inquisitively.

“Good morning Autumn.” He grunted at her. “I thought we said next week.”

She averted her eyes shyly, feeling bashful for a moment.

“I saw a chance, so I got it done. No biggie.”

Actually, she’d rushed it on purpose. Sarah Bosen’s birthday was next week and she had to go. Every time she missed an event, that cow Regina Dawson spread rumours about her. But she wasn’t going to tell him all that.

“You have it?”

She grinned and lifted the chain around her neck.

The heart shaped locket came off and she dropped it onto the table with a heavy thunk. It didn’t stop there though, the weight and the shape of the darn thing tended to make it roll. This time it came to stop with both atriums facing up, the stub of the pulmonary artery and aorta keeping it from toppling over.

Paulus carefully undid the latch, and lifted the delivery from inside. Red and formerly beating, it jiggled like the meat it was. When she’d cut it from his chest it had been a gross chunk of dripping gore. She’d cleaned it up though, she hated to make a messy delivery. Now it was just a paperweight.

Paulus grunted.

“Heavy one.”

Autumn could only shrug.

“Another smoker.” She said. Then quipped: “My mom says it shortens your life!”

The joke bounced off Paulus without him noticing, her boss still staring at the heart in his hands. Everyone was always so distracted by them, she couldn’t understand why. He hefted it for a second, then looked at her sharply.

“You know,” He muttered. “This one was pretty quick, you just got the name. Not sure I want to pay until I’m sure I’m not holding someone else’s.”

In a split second, Autumn’s smile faded. This was new, but not surprising. In this business, everyone always wanted to change the rules. She quietly stood up tall and looked up into Paulus’ distorted neck-bereft features far above.

“Are you trying to cheat me?”

In an instant, the fat man became a ghost. His face went pale as death, his eyes widening. She watched a tremor move up his body, his lip quivered, and then his hands. Her delivery bounced off the table in a splat.

“No…” He stammered. “Oh, no honey, of course not.”

From under the table he produced a bag and handed it to her. She slipped it into her dress pocket, not bothering to count it. They would see her again. And if they shortchanged her, she would see them much sooner then they wanted. Her little smile returned.

“Thanks Mr. P!”

With a pirouette, she headed out, not wasting a kiss on his sweaty cheek above his non-neck. Slipping back through the door, she emerged gaily on the street to frolic in another perfect Autumn day.